


The Mera and The Luna

by ThereWillBeCubes



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, M/M, Merman Makoto, mer!makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereWillBeCubes/pseuds/ThereWillBeCubes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans always piqued Makoto's curiosity rather than his hunger, and while his fellows only think of the meal to be had of a capsized ship at sea, he takes a different path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mera and The Luna

**Author's Note:**

> I needed sweet Makoharu to soothe my soul. Wrote this in about two hours on a whim, please enjoy C:

-

 

“Fresh meat, fresh meat!”

The merman follows his fellows delighted whispers, leaving the comfort of the seabed, up into the sunlight. There's a half dozen already circling in the warmer water, chittering and clicking in excitement as they drift lazily towards a ship cutting through the waves. It's large, yes, but when he scents the fresh air, only a second of wind and the sight of the encroaching clouds tells him they will not make it. Unless they can tame the Mera herself.

And she is cold, oblivious, unfeeling, wanting nothing but the pull of the Luna. Some call it Lune, but Makoto believes the sea and the celestial body are like his tribal leaders; a pair of females that need none else.

He casts his eyes up to the ship; it will be full with humans, and he has not tasted their flesh in so long, but he finds he does not want it to sink. There is plenty of food in the sea, and he feels bad for the humans, trying to navigate the treacherous waters, they cannot even breathe out of the open air.

The young male does not voice these private thoughts, best to keep them that way. He is strong, yes, as fast as any, and he has hunted sharpteeth before, but he does not have the bloodlust of the others, nor the desire to impress the females. It is seen as strange, not right for a merman.

His colours are odd, too. The others are varying shades, light blue to the deepest black, but his fins and scales are green, not like the seaweed, but like the soft time before sunset, pale.

The troop are joined by others, older and younger alike, the seasoned looking truly wild as they watch the path of the ship. Human flesh is said to be the most delicious, the most nourishing, and he prays that if the storm takes them, there best be enough to go around, lest merbodies join the slaughter as well.

Soon most of his tribe are following the path, scenting the air, excited in the approaching storm. Some even remain above the surface; the biggest, the strongest, no doubt already choosing their meals from the forms scampering all over the structure.

Oh, they are completely oblivious, Makoto despairs, but guesses it would be better it stayed that way. Let them focus on the wind and the waves.

More put their heads above the water, and Makoto cannot stand it, their delighted chatter, the blown-wide eyes and the unsheathing of claws. He breaks away from the main group, swimming deeply under the boat, surfacing a little ways to the side.

He gazes at the huge structure; humans were so intelligent, so bold. They could not swim like his people, but they had the will to cross the great oceans anyway, with grace and purpose. Most said it was an affront to the Mera, their gall, but he admired them. How he often wished he could join their world of grace and light.

He is so lost in his thoughts, it takes him too long to notice a human male, hanging by a hand on a rope, staring at him in wonder.

The merman locks eyes with the boy, slight and pale, and sucks in a breath.

Makoto often does not see the sky, but he can see it in the human's gaze, brilliant and beautiful. The human reaches out his hand, mouth opening, and Makoto dives back under the waves, heart pounding and gills flaring.

So stupid, now the humans will know, and they will be distracted. His heart gutters and stops at the thought of those blue eyes closing forever, what has he done?

He joins the rest of the tribe, thankful they are too fixated on food to even care about where he had gone.

All he can do is watch in slowly growing horror as the night falls and deepens, and the clouds block out all light. The waves begin to surge with greater intensity, until the time comes where they outstrip the ship itself, crashing into the structure with all the force of the Mera. It is tossed back and forth, opportunistic young ones snatching the weaker humans and darting away, but the rest wait, for the harvest is close enough.

The ship slowly sinks, and the humans fall into the sea, scrabble into smaller boats, Makoto despairing as the merpeople ascend, tongues lolling, shrieking their excitement.

The first boat is overturned by a group of gleeful young males, each claiming a human, dragging them down into the depths the moment their claws sink into their soft, supple flesh. Blood is in the water, and Makoto's stomach aches.

He swims, unseeing as the elders make for the largest of the boats, dividing up the humans as they glide through the tumultuous waves. Lightning arcs overhead as Makoto puts his face above water, illuminating the roiling waves in flashes; the boat slowly disappearing into the ocean. The Mera takes no prisoners.

But the scent of rich flesh is heavy on the air, particularly intoxicating, and his claws unsheath without conscious thought. The scene, impossibly loud on the surface, drowning out thought, is anarchy under the water, mermen and women darting to and fro, dragging thrashing humans, some even ripping into them on the spot.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!” they shriek, wild and furious; it is everyone for themselves this night.

Makoto hisses, feeling his blood begin to rush. He's so hungry.

He flicks his powerful tail, moving to the other side of the ship, where there were less of his people, leaving the tumult behind. He can see a figure, darting through the water, but there is something odd about his movements. As skillfully as he moves through the ocean, it is not the smooth movement of a tail propelling him, it is a pair of pale legs.

The scent hits him; a human. A lone human.

His mind ticks over. Every single human will be killed tonight, they will all be hunted down, helpless in the waves. Despite his qualms, he cannot change that, and at least he could give the human a quick death, unlike the others that delighted in watching the life fade from their eyes in the depths of the sea.

He lets out a soft snarl, surging towards him, but the human, somehow sensing his approach, turns.

It's him. Makoto comes to a halt, and they stare at one another, the merman mesmerised by the intensity of that face. A beautiful face, he thinks, far more so than any of the ones in his tribe. Suddenly, they widen, terror overtaking the human's expression, and he takes a breath, before trying to swim away. Makoto is unsure. He doesn't want to kill this human, no...

Another merperson darts around him, grey tail flicking as they make directly for the sky-eyed.

_No!_

The storm continues to rage, the waves huge, the lightning constant, but Makoto blocks it all out, intent on only one thing. The urge to protect this human, he must protect him.

Makoto is larger and quicker than the merman giving chase, and it takes only a few deep cuts and some snarling to get him to end his pursuit, sending him back to the bloodbath.

The human is watching wide wide eyes, bobbing up and down in the water, and Makoto's heart lurches as he is unable to stay surfaced, wrenched back and forth by the sea.

Worried noises burst from his mouth as he grabs the human around the waist, bringing him back up for air.

“Let me, let me, stay holding,” Makoto cries, as another wave swells, hand curling around a slender wrist.

The human doesn't understand, but he lets Makoto take his arm, and follows him as they swim farther and farther away from the sinking ship.

He guides the human through the waters, to the closest shore, marvelling at his seeming tirelessness, his fluid movements. It was as if he were mer himself.

Just after daybreak, they find a beach, strewn with debris from the storm, but it is land all the same, and Makoto watches and the human staggers on it, relief all over his face. He is suddenly unsure of what to do; this human has captivated him, but what was to come of it? The human is safe, and he should leave, as much as he doesn't want to. But as he is turning to swim away, the boy collapses, weight too much for his tired legs, and Makoto is by his side in an instant, helping him up.

He makes a chorus of soothing clicking sounds, like his mother used to to calm him, propping the human up on the sand, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

They settle there for a while, in the broken sunlight, the human breathing slowly, the merman holding him around the middle with a steady arm.

“Haru,” the human says, eyes curious, and Makoto looks down from his face to see him pointing at his own chest with a slender finger.

“Haru,” he repeats, and Makoto realises that is his name.

“Haru...” Makoto murmurs, pointing at him. The human slowly nods, before gesturing at Makoto.

“What is your name?”

Makoto cannot make sense of the words, but he understands the gesture. The human is Haru, he should introduce himself.

“Makoto,” he says.

“Makoto,” the human repeats, and Makoto's heart flutters a little. This is all so strange. The human shuffles forward, face warm.

“Thankyou for saving my life, Makoto.”

He definitely doesn't understand what Haru is saying, but the human's face is smiling, eyes shimmering, and Makoto's breath catches when he is given a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thankyou,” he whispers, pecking again, “thankyou.”

Makoto presses his hand to the spot his lips touched; they were so warm and soft, and he feels himself melt.

“Than.. koo?” he murmurs, and Haru nods.

A loud, gurgling growl comes from Haru, and Makoto blinks confusedly as the human winces, pressing his hands to his stomach.

“Haru?”

The human is casting around, eyes darting, tongue wetting his salty lips. He shudders, gripping Makoto's shoulder for support.

“I need to find something to eat,” he mutters, “and drink.”

His stomach makes the rumbling sound again, and Makoto realises the human needs sustenance, the way his hands press at his belly.

“Haru?” he asks, laying his hand over his stomach, tilting his head. Haru freezes, but nods slowly.

“Hungry,” he says quietly.

“Haru hungry,” Makoto repeats, before smiling and chirruping. He could catch Haru some food easily.

He slips into the waves, deaf to the sudden cries of the human; and soon finds a school of silver fish darting about. It's easy enough to catch an armful, some for him, some for Haru. He won't need to eat for a quarter-phase after a catch like this.

But his smile fades when he returns to the beach; the human is gone. The island is not very big; sand running to an area run with tall plants, so unlike the ones clinging to the seabed.

Makoto curls up on a rock, in the warm afternoon sunlight, heart beating erratically. He is alone, it will take a day and a night to find his tribe again, if they haven't already moved elsewhere, and they will not take kindly to his absence if he does return. But if he remains alone, he is weaker for it, an easy target for the great killers, despite his strength and agility.

Tears collect in his eyes and run down his face, Makoto has always been an outcast, but never alone.

“Makoto!”

He jerks upward, heart jumping. The human, Haru, is running towards him, arms full of something brown. He drops them with a clatter on the sand, before picking over to him, footing careful but sure on the slippery surface.

“Haru!” Makoto chirps, smiling, holding out the fish, making the human stop in his tracks, “hungry!”

The human's great eyes blink, and he smiles.

“Thankyou,” he murmurs, and Makoto wriggles forward, proferring his cheek, excited. Something crosses Haru's eyes, the sky glimmering, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to Makoto's face. The merman is delighted by the sensation, feeling the warmth run from the spot, into his bones, his heart. The warmth strengthens as he continues to look at Haru, his fluid movements, his hair like the sky that surrounds the Luna; not quite pitch, but subtly coloured.

“Makoto,” he murmurs, and the merman freezes at the sensation of slender fingers in his hair, oh, it felt so lovely.

Haru builds _fire_ , he calls it, and Makoto is captivated by it; a minature Sol, right there on the sand, that only seems to burn brighter as the daylight fades and the Luna takes it's place, her half face stark white in the cloudless sky. He curls up on the beach, and watches Haru put the prey over the fire, offering some to Makoto. The fire has made it even more delicious, and he eats it eagerly, contendedly sitting out of the water, just like a human.

Haru spoke very little, but that did not bother Makoto, but the merman still felt as if they could understand each other, with a look of the eyes, a little movement of the mouth or furrow of the brow. It was very, very strange.

When Makoto finds his eyes closing, his belly full and heart soothed, the words Haru whispers are _“good night.”_

And when he comes to in the light of the Sol, the sounds are _“good morning.”_

There are no other humans, there are no other mermen here. Haru seems unbothered by it, and during the daylight Makoto watches him slowly construct a little structure from lengths of green plants and _“wood”_ , just in the shade of the _“trees.”_

Haru tries to copy his clicking sounds, but Makoto guesses humans simply cannot make them, that is okay, he will learn from Haru.

It has been a half-cycle of the Luna when Haru starts keeping his fire strong and bright during the night, staring out across the ocean, and Makoto wonders what he is looking for. He feeds it wood to make it billow more grey clouds, stinging at Makoto's eyes, the scent making him cough.

Haru must be waiting for humans, Makoto thinks sadly; for the merman has not missed his tribe at all, content to spend the light and dark with Haru.

His mother used to tell him stories, and he told these stories to Haru, to stave his sadness, as they would curl up together, his hand in his hair, remembering how nice it felt.

“The world was not always this way,” Makoto murmured, letting the dark locks fall through his fingers, Haru's solemn eyes blinking up at him, “the Sol and the Luna once shared the same sky, his light almost shielding her from view from the rest of the world. No one could see her, and she would weep, and her sadness would cause the very waters to shift.”

It was an old tale, from the very beginning.

“But the Mera felt her sorrow, and it moved her, and she looked long and hard into the sky, calling out to the Luna, comforting her, and soon the Mera and the Luna fell in love,” Makoto continued, “a great love, so much so she fled from the sky she and the Sol would share, to be alone with her, to call and pull her every night.”

Haru could only understand a few words, but by his lidded expression, Makoto believed he was soothed.

“They were so far from one another, and the Mera would ask the Luna, why me? We can never be together, and the pain of it overwhelmed the Mera so much she would rage and roil, while the Luna watched helplessly on, trying to calm her with her pull. It was the worst when clouds would cover the sky, and they could not see each other, the waves would reach terrible heights in the Mera's anger.”

Haru shuffled closer to him, laying his head closer, and Makoto felt a very strange surge of emotion indeed.

“The Sol, jealous, tried to blind her, so she could not see her love, not at all, and she wept for days when the light was the strongest. The Mera tried to comfort her, saying the light only made her all the more beautiful, that all the world could see her truly, for what she was, that they could not even bear to look at the Sol, but they turned their faces up in joy as she graced the once dark skies.”

The fire pops and crackles, and he smiles at the Luna, in her gracious seat.

“And the stars began to unveil themselves to the Luna, sensing the great love, happy for it, showering her with praise, and her tears stopped. But the pain of their eternal seperation hurts them both to this day, and they have not a thought for the mortal lives around them, only eyes for each other. They continue to move, always calling, their love rich in the night skies and the sea, and when we behold her cast, or feel the rush of the water, we should remember it is their love that sustains us.”

There is a stillness to the air as he finishes, as if the world is holding it's breath. The waves are subdued, the sky bright and thick with stars and light. Haru's eyes are smattered with it as he places his hands on Makoto's cheeks, and he does something he has not done before, not quite.

He puts their mouths together, lips moving across Makoto's, stilling the merman's heart.

“Makoto,” Haru says quietly, “love.”

He understands the word immediately, heart bursting with it, and wraps his arms around the human, smelling his sweet scent, kissing him back, tail swishing.

“Haru, love,” he murmurs, and he can feel himself pulled towards the human, in every fibre of his being, his blood the waves, Haru's heart the Luna.

He nuzzles Haru, his Haru, listening to his gentle sigh.

“Love.”

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stay consistent with Makoto's naming of things and expression but not sure if it worked. Also writing a little fable like that is harder than I thought it would be. 
> 
> therewillbecubes.tumblr.com, I'd love requests u wu


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